


Yondu Week Christmas 2020

by LoveisYonduBlue



Series: Yondu Week [5]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:01:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28002828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveisYonduBlue/pseuds/LoveisYonduBlue
Summary: Because we all could use a little more holiday cheer (and Yondu) this year, I’m doing a winter / Christmas-themed Yondu Week!
Relationships: Kraglin Obfonteri & Yondu Udonta, Peter Quill & Yondu Udonta
Series: Yondu Week [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1387837
Comments: 19
Kudos: 22





	1. Day 1: Christmas Movies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Peter expresses concerns about Christmas in space, Yondu tracks down some holiday movies and they watch them together. Meanwhile, Peter teaches the Ravagers about holiday traditions.

Yondu sits in his Captain’s chair in the Control Room, doing busywork he’s been putting off for weeks. Sorting through holopads with old mission data, updating frequencies, and downloading the latest maps from hacked Nova Corps feeds are on his to-do list today.

Quill lies on the floor on his stomach nearby, reading some comic on a holopad that Oblo lent him. Yondu would have stuck him with Tullk or Kraglin, but they’re working on Construction engines and he doesn’t want little Quill anywhere near those gigantic and dangerous turbines.

“Can Santa Claus travel in space?”

Besides strings of faint music coming from Quill’s headphones from time to time, the boy’s been blessedly quiet, so the abrupt question startles Yondu out of his task-oriented mindset. He stares down at the Terran. _“What?”_

Quill doesn’t look up; he idly twirls his finger in the cord of his headphones. “Do you think Santa will know I’m all the way out here?” He looks up, feeling Yondu’s eyes on him. “How will he find us if the _Eclector_ keeps moving all the time?”

“Whatchu talkin’ ‘bout, boy? Who the hell is Sandy Claws?”

Quill lets out a quiet, frustrated huff and rolls into a sitting position. “ _Santa Claus,”_ he says, annunciating the words loudly and clearly. “He flies around on a sleigh pulled by eight reindeer and gives presents to kids all over the world on Christmas Eve.”

Yondu stares long and hard, then blinks. “Boy, I don’t understand a word you jus’ said. What’re rain-deers? What’s krissmus?”

Instead of getting angry or throwing a fit like Yondu expects, Quill’s face just falls. He’s quiet for a few moments before saying, very softly, “Nevermind.” He slowly rolls back onto his stomach, dejectedly leaning his chin on his arms.

Yondu likes to pretend he’s callous and uncaring, but he’d have to be deaf not to hear the disappointment and sadness in Quill’s voice, and dammit if it doesn’t tug at his crusty old heartstrings.

* * *

“So it’s a holiday?”

“Yessir,” Kraglin says, wiping grease from his brow. The mechanic adjusts the huge wrench above his head and hangs on it with all his weight to tighten the bolt on the Construction vessel before readjusting again. “Tha’s what Pete tells me. Sounds like it was always a real important one to him and his family.”

Yondu doesn’t reply and nods, reaching up to pull against the wrench Kraglin is now struggling with.

“Thanks, Cap.”

“So gifts, cookies, and movies, huh? When is this holiday supposed t’be?”

“December 25, every year, he says. Way I figure-” Kraglin breaks off to grunt, yanking at the wrench, and Yondu helps him again, “I figure it’s in a week.”

“Got it."

* * *

“What’s on Byrmal?” Quill asks, bouncing in his seat.

Yondu glares back at him. “You buckled in, boy? It’s a marketplace. They got lots a’ stuff. Maybe even stuff from Terra.”

“Really?”

“I ain’t makin’ any promises, Quill. Now, ya stick right by me, hear? Or I’m gonna feed ya to the crew.”

“No, don’t! I’ll stay close!”

The threat keeps Quill by Yondu’s side, but the fear it had instilled evaporates quickly. The boy’s grin seems permanent as he takes in the colorful awnings and tents, sparkling displays and hundreds of people. Yondu sees a few people look his way inquisitively, so he takes Quill’s small hand in his. Thankfully the boy doesn’t fight it, holding on tightly.

Suddenly Quill lets out a squeal. “Look! Look, it’s Mickey!”

“Who?” Yondu asks as he allows himself to be dragged through the crowd towards a nearby stall.

Quill points at a large figurine in the window with big round ears and red shorts. “Mickey Mouse!”

“A Terran thing?”

“Yeah! Can we go in?”

“If ya stop yankin’ on my arm!”

Giggling, Peter enters the shop with Yondu in tow. “Look, it’s Pong! And Scratch n’ Sniff stickers! And…”

Yondu tunes the boy out as he rambles on, scanning the place. It looks like a lot of junk to him, but if it shuts Peter up, then by all means.

He sidles over to the merchant at the head of the store and idly leans on the counter. The owner is watching Peter with an amused smile. “He yours?” he asks.

Yondu glances at Peter, and a strange feeling of protectiveness rises up in his chest. “Yeah, he is,” he says, a little more defensively than he means. “His Momma was Terran.”

The merchant’s smile just grows. “I got seven at home.”

Yondu lets out a low whistle, and the arrow quivers in its holster. “Damn,” he says with a shake of his head. “One’s plenty fer me. Lissen, ya got anythin’ to do with Krissmuss?”

“Yeah, sure, I got a bunch in the back, give me a minute.”

“Quill, c’mere.”

Peter comes running over holding a bag with huge red lettering on it. “Big League Chew! Can I get it?”

“Maybe. This guy’s bringin’ out a bunch a’ Krissmuss stuff. Ya wanna take a look?”

An hour later, they leave with a VCR, a bunch of VHS Christmas tapes, a small artificial tree with lights, and Peter’s Big League Chew.

Yondu enjoys a mostly-peaceful ride back to the _Eclector_ as Peter happily sorts through his stash.

“Hey Yondu, will you watch some Christmas movies with me and Kraglin?”

Yondu fights the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, sure kid.”

So for the five days leading up to Christmas, Peter picks out a movie each night, and climbs onto a half-broken lumpy old sofa between Kraglin and Yondu, a handful of Big League Chew in his mouth. They watch _A Christmas Story_ first.

“Santa’s kind of an asshole, ain’t he?” Yondu comments at the appropriate scene.

Peter glares up at him. “That’s not _really_ Santa Claus. It’s just some guy dressed up as him.”

“Oh. So the real Santa ain’t an asshole, is that what yer sayin’?”

“No, he’s fat and jolly and really nice. He gives presents to good boys and girls.”

“Guess yer outta luck then, kid,” Yondu says with a chuckle, which dies quickly as Peter looks up at him with a genuine look of concerned panic. “Er, uh. Jus’ foolin’, Quill. Yer a good kid, I guess. As far as kids go.” They watch the rest of the movie in relative silence, except for laughing. It’s a pretty funny movie, and Yondu enjoys it, despite not understanding many of the Terran references.

The next night, they watch Rudolph the Reindeer and Frosty the Snowman back-to-back.

“ _That’s_ what Santa is supposed to be like,” Quill firmly tells Yondu, who keeps to himself that he thinks both movies are annoying and, in some instances, just plain _weird_. Who licks a pickaxe?

Next up is _A Charlie Brown Christmas,_ which again, Yondu doesn’t quite care for, but Kraglin thinks it’s nice, and Tullk agrees. The room has gotten more crowded every night, with more Ravagers joining them to watch, wondering what this Christmas thing is all about.

During the day, between tapes, Quill talks anyone’s ear off that will listen about Christmas. “I want rocket boots!” he tells Kraglin. The mechanic sets up the little tree in Block D where they sleep, in the corner where it’s out of the way but where Peter can still clearly see it.

Peter tries to convince Erson, the cook, to make sugar cookies, and he tries. He really does. Peter teaches the crew at lunchtime how to make paper snowflakes, and they tack them all over the walls. Peter and Oblo’s turn out the best; the others resemble insects more than snowflakes. Next thing Yondu knows, there’s lights strung up in the hallway and ribbons dangling from the railings.

Zeede, the First Mate, grumbles about it nonstop but Yondu puts up with it because crew morale is high. Not because it makes Peter in particular happy.

Well, maybe that’s a small part of the reason. A very small part.

On the fifth day, Peter informs him that it is Christmas Eve. They watch a movie that night, and Peter insists that he get some milk and cookies from the kitchen before bed. It’s not quite milk, and the cookies didn’t come out right, but Peter is hopeful that Santa will understand. He places them under the tree and yells at the Ravagers around him not to touch them, because they’re for Santa Claus.

“What did you think about the movie?” Peter asks as Yondu watches him settle down next to Kraglin.

The mechanic is leaned up on one elbow, eyes flicking expectantly between the boy and Yondu.

“It was…it was a good one,” Yondu says. “Now go t’ sleep, Quill.”

“Yondu?”

He sighs. “What.”

The question comes soft, unsure. “Do you really think Santa will be able to find me out here?”

“Well, uh…” He glances at Kraglin, who suddenly seems extremely interested in a loose thread coming off his blanket. The Captain’s gaze is drawn back to Quill, who is biting his lip, eyes round and worried. “Well, he’s magic, ain’t he?” he asks, putting his hands on his hips. “And he knows who ya are, right? So. I don’t see why he couldn’t find ya, seems like a pretty powerful guy.”

Quill’s frown disappears, melting into a big smile. “Yeah! You’re right, Yondu. Thanks!”

“Yeah, yeah. Now shut them eyes and go t’ sleep,” he says again, turning away.

“Yondu?”

 _“What,_ Quill?” he snaps, spinning on his heel.

“Merry Christmas!”

Yondu’s posture softens and he lets out a small chuckle. “Right. Merry Krissmuss, Quill.”

_“Christmas.”_

“Whatever. Go t’ sleep.”

As Yondu walks back to his cabin, he reflects on the movie they had watched that night. Something called _A Christmas Carol._

It had been unexpectedly unsettling for him. The mere thought of having to revisit his past and relive it was not an idea he liked entertaining. But the possibility of redemption, of another chance, he reflects as he climbs into bed, was a nice way to end the story.

 _Maybe…_ he thinks sleepily as he turns down the lights, _Maybe there’s even hope fer the likes a’ me. Maybe._


	2. Day 2: Presents / Gift-Giving (aka The Unauthorized Present)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter wants a particular gift for Christmas, but it's too dangerous. Yondu needs to figure something else out.

Peter had turned the _Eclector_ upside-down with this Christmas thing. He had a small tree in Block D, they’d been watching Christmas movies, and there were paper snowflakes, ribbons, and lights strung up everywhere you looked.

The Ravagers either loved it or hated it; it was an even divide. Sometimes Yondu caught sight of Zeede, his First Mate, snarling at some engineer or Nav who he’d find paused in the hallway, smiling foolishly up at the twinkling lights. They would duck down and scurry away at Zeede’s threats.

Yondu would permit the silly behavior for a short time before likewise ordering the crewman on his way when he ran across them. Crew morale is high, so it’s not the crew and their minor distractions that he’s worried about.

No, it’s the last part of Christmas – one of the most important parts, evidently – that he’s worried about. Presents. What do you get an eight-year-old Terran boy?

“I want rocket boots!” he’s overheard Peter telling Kraglin several times.

“No, Pete. They’re too dangerous,” Kraglin keeps replying, to Yondu’s relief. “Ya’d break yer flarkin’ neck.”

“You’re no fun.”

Yondu attempts to spy on Quill in the days leading up to Christmas, trying to figure out what would make a good gift for the kid. He knows, more than anything, that Peter would want his mother back, his family back, his life back. But that’s something he just can’t deliver.

His eyes land on Quill’s Walkman as the boy brings the headphones up around his ears, and an idea strikes him so suddenly that he grins. It might not be the most glamorous present, but it might do.

* * *

Come Christmas morning, Yondu stumbles out of bed early, grumbling. He’d promised Quill that he’d be there when he woke up to open presents. He’d break his promise, but he’d foolishly made the oath in front of a large group of his crew; Kraglin, Tullk, Oblo and Horuz included.

Quill is just waking up when he enters Block D. He rubs his eyes, looks around, and smiles.

 _“It’s Christmas!”_ The boy shouts at the top of his lungs, causing several Ravagers to bolt upright, blasters and knives in hand. He pounces on Kraglin’s chest, who wakes, letting out a loud groan interspersed with creative curses.

“Merry Christmas Kraglin!”

“Mm’ Chrismuss,” he murmurs back groggily, dragging his fingers through his hair.

Yondu bites back a laugh as Quill roughly shakes Tullk awake, and tugs on Oblo’s feet. He spies Yondu. “Merry Christmas Yondu!”

“Merry Christmas, boy.”

“You said it right this time!” Peter glances over at the tree and hops up and down. “Hey! Santa was here! He found me!”

Yondu follows his gaze and is not surprised to see that the “milk and cookies” Peter had left are gone; nothing is left but an empty glass and crumbs. What _is_ curious is that whatever Ravager that pilfered it left the glass and plate – he would have thought those would have disappeared too.

There are several small gifts around the base of the tree, and one larger that is hidden behind.

Peter seizes two gifts clumsily wrapped in bits of paper and string. He hands one to Kraglin, and the other to Yondu. “Here you go!”

Yondu stares down at it. “Huh? What’s…what’s this, Quill?”

“It’s a Christmas present,” the boy replies with a look of confusion.

“Fer…fer me?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Yondu’s throat tightens unexpectedly, and he thrusts his hand into his coat before Quill can hurry back to the tree. “Here, boy. Here’s something fer you.”

“Thanks, Yondu!” he says, taking the small package. He opens it up and takes out a couple objects that look like vials of blue liquid. He cocks his head. “What are they?”

“Fer yer Walk-Thing. Them batteries’ll last forever. You’ll never have to change ‘em again.”

“They’ll never run out?” Quill asks excitedly.

He shrugs. “Not fer probably fifty years.”

“Wow, thanks! Now I can listen to my music all the time!” He hugs the batteries to his chest, and hurries to grab his Walkman.

As Kraglin hands Quill a small bag, Yondu opens his own gift. Inside is a little green smiling figurine with yellow eyes and swirly curl on top of its head.

“It’s for your collection!” Peter says, and Yondu looks at the boy to see he’s been watching him over his shoulder.

Yondu grins down at it and nods. “Cute bugger, Quill.”

“Cool, a knife! Thanks, Kraglin!”

“Ya keep it folded up when y’ain’t usin’ it, Peter,” Kraglin says, coming to stand by Yondu. “Ain’t no toy.” He unfolds the package Quill had given him; it’s a mechanic’s multi-tool. He smiles. “Thanks, Pete, tha’s gonna come in handy.”

“You’re welcome!” There’s a _snikt_ as Peter snaps his knife closed again. “Hey, what’s behind the tree?” He drags out the large package Yondu had spotted earlier, which is more nicely wrapped than anything else there. He rips open the paper and lets out a yell of delight. _“Rocket boots!”_

Yondu and Kraglin exchange glances. “I thought ya said rocket boots was too dangerous,” Yondu growls under his breath.

 _“I_ didn’t git it fer him, sir,” Kraglin hisses back with wide, concerned eyes.

“Well if it weren’t me, and it weren’t you, then who?”

Kraglin shrugs, eyeing Tullk and Oblo, but they look just as bewildered.

“Look what Santa brought me! Look!” Quill cries, running up to them with both arms wrapped around the boots. “Can you teach me how to use ‘em?”

The boy looks so happy and excited that Yondu just doesn’t have the heart to turn him down. Besides, it’s safer than him trying to figure them out on his own. “Yeah,” he says hesitantly. “Sure, Quill. But they ain’t toys neither. They’re tools.”

“Okay!” he chirps, and tugs at Yondu’s sleeve. “C’mon! Let’s go to the hangar and test ‘em out!”

Yondu gives one more suspicious glance around the room, but no one looks guilty – at least not guilty of giving a child rocket boots. He eyes them in Quills arms, then his eyes flick to the tree and the empty plate and glass. _Maybe it really was…_. He snorts at himself. _Nah, that’s ridiculous._


	3. Day 3: Santa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [y/n] and Peter want Yondu to dress up as Santa Claus, but "jolly fat man" doesn't vibe with "Ravager Captain." However, something happens to change his mind....

“No. No, I ain’t doin’ it.”

“Oh, come on spaceman,” you say, leaning over the bed to kiss his cheek. “I found a suit online and it’ll be here two days!”

He shoves himself back into the pillows and crosses his arms over his chest. _“No._ Quill’s got some kinda agenda with this. I ain’t _fat_ and I ain’t _jolly._ That ain’t the kinda vibe I want givin’ off! I’m a Ravager, dammit! _”_

“Oh come on, it’s not like the rest of the crew will know anything about it, only us. Just think about it. The kids would love it.”

“Kids? What kids?”

“Jesper maybe? Definitely Groot. He’s been loving those Christmas stories.”

Yondu’s face softens a little. “…aw, the Twig would love it.” He pauses at your sudden excited grin and shakes his head vehemently. “But I ain’t gonna do it!” Your grin fades into a gentle smile, which causes him to pause again and sigh. “Shit. I’ll think about it.”

“Yay! I’m going to order it!”

“Hey, I didn’t say _yes_!” Yondu shouts after you as you leave the bedroom.

“Oh relax, I can always return it!” you call back.

You’re all at your family’s cabin for Christmas. The air smells like coffee and fresh-baked cookies, and there’s a general air of happiness and peace about the place. Yondu was feeling much of the same until you and Quill sprung this on him. He knows you won’t force him to do anything he doesn’t want to, though. With a roll of his eyes, he gets out of bed and showers. He prepares to go down stairs when he passes a partially open door and hears Jesper talking.

From the sounds of things, everyone else is downstairs already, eating breakfast or watching television, so the fact that Jesper is alone and talking to someone makes Yondu stop to listen.

“I’m not sure if you can hear me, Momma,” he’s saying, and Yondu catches his breath a little, “I know I don’t have the holy blossom and I’m not…I’m not at your resting place. I’m on Terra, actually. The Cap’n’s girlfriend, Dr. [y/n] has a house here, and she invited all of us to come for a Terran holiday called Christmas. I didn’t know I was invited until the last minute, when Doc asked if I was packed. She insisted I come, because she said I’m family and Christmas is all about family.” There’s a pause. “You probably know by now that I found out Kraglin is my dad. This is the first holiday I’m sharing with him, and I want it to be a good one. I’m not sure if you have any influence over that, or if you can talk to someone higher up, but I’d really like it to be nice. I’ve always admired him and the Cap’n…and now I have an uncle too and all of his team, and I just want this time with my new family to be special. Anyway…I better go. I love you, Momma. I miss you.”

Yondu creeps quickly down the stairs so he’s not caught and joins you at the kitchen table.

You immediately notice Yondu’s pensive demeanor and lay a hand over his. “You okay?”

Yondu sighs and leans his chin in his hand. He grumbles something under his breath that you don’t catch.

“What was that?” you ask, leaning closer.

“ _Fine_ , I’ll do it.”

You grin and start to respond, but he interrupts. “You tell the Rat,” he snarls, pointing at finger at you, “That if he takes pictures, or video, or spreads this around and my crew finds out, that I’m gonna kill him and mount him on the outside a’ the _Eclector_!”

* * *

“I can’t believe you got him to do this.” Peter murmurs to you, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

You shrug. “I didn’t do anything. I just asked, and he agreed after thinking it over. Honestly, I’m as surprised as you.”

“You didn’t bribe him? With…you know…” his voice lowers. “ _Private time?_ That’s how Gamora gets me to do stuff sometimes.”

“ _Peter Quill.”_ You smack his arm. “I did not bribe him. And that’s way too much information.”

“Sorry.”

You see Yondu give the signal through the deck window and let out a fake gasp of surprise. “Groot! Jesper! Mantis! I think we have a special visitor!”

The three of them, plus Drax, Rocket, Kraglin and Ryx turn towards you expectantly. Nebula and Gamora gaze from their corner jigsaw puzzle with mild interest, and Peter can hardly contain himself.

Yondu emerges through the deck door, dressed in full Santa Claus regalia. The red suit, shiny black boots, gloves, beard; the whole works except the hat, which wouldn’t fit over his implant. “Ho ho ho!” he begins, jolly enough for any Santa worth his salt, but as everybody begins to laugh, the festive guffaws turn into signature Yondu chuckles. Beneath the beard, you can see he’s flushed purple. He catches your eyes and the blush deepens.

 _“Oh my gods,”_ you hear Nebula murmur dryly, and makes her way to the liquor cabinet. Gamora smiles politely and leans against the wall to watch.

“I am Groot! I am Groot!” the little Flora Colossus cries, pointing at Yondu. He tugs at Rocket’s hand to go closer.

“Uh, yeah,” Rocket says between cackles, “Yeah, sure, that’s Santa, buddy.”

Yondu sits on an armchair you positioned between the fireplace and the Christmas tree, and Groot runs up to him, climbing up his leg so he can sit on his knee.

Drax comes close to peer in Yondu’s face, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are you really Santa Claus? I thought he was a myth. And he is not blue in any of the stories we have read or movies we have watched.”

Thankfully, Peter intervenes, steering Drax away and whispering. A moment later, Drax lets out a very loud, “OH,” and you take it that he understands the situation.

“Hey Twig. I mean, Groot,” Yondu begins, and the child looks up at him with sparkling orange eyes. Rocket stands by to translate.

“I am Groot!”

“He’s relieved you’re not wearing your hat. And he says he’s been very good this year,” Rocket barely manages, wheezing.

“Oh yeah?” Yondu asks.

“I am Groot.”

“He’s excited for Christmas.”

“I’ll bet.”

“I am Groot!”

“He’d like a game to play.”

“Oh? What kinda game?” Yondu asks.

“I am Groot.”

“A handheld game, somethin’ he can travel with easy.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Groot stands on Yondu’s knee and hugs his little arms as far as they’ll go around Yondu’s middle, then stares up at him and says, “I am Groot.”

Yondu looks at Rocket expectantly, but the Guardian’s snarky smile has vanished. He seems a little choked up and lost for words. “He…he uh. He says he loves his family and asks that you give everybody a real nice Christmas, because it’s been a tough year.”

Yondu smiles fondly at Groot through his beard and pats him gently on the head. “You got it. Here, Twig.” He pulls a candy cane out of a little bag at his side and hands it to the Flora Colossus.

“I am Groot!”

“Thanks, _Santa.”_ Rocket winks.

Groot hops down off Yondu’s knee and shows Rocket the candy cane proudly.

Mantis shyly approaches Yondu and perches on the edge of his knee. “Hello Santa Claus,” she says with a toothy smile, then whispers with a giggle, “Hello Yondu.”

Yondu chuckles. “Hi Ladybug. Ya been a good girl?”

Mantis seems very pensive for a moment, her brow furrowing and antennae drooping slightly. “I think so.”

“Ya have, darlin’,” he assures her with a pat to her knee. “Whatcha want fer Christmas?”

“Hmm. I would like lots of Christmas cookies! With frosting!”

Yondu laughs. “I think we can make that happen. Here.” He hands her a candy cane, and she gives him a tight, brief hug.

Jesper approaches, nervously smiling and his face flushed blue.

“Hey Jesper.”

“Hello Cap- er. Santa.” He fidgets.

“I won’t make ya sit on my knee. C’mere, boy.”

Jesper stands close, and Yondu lays a hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to,” Yondu begins in a low voice meant only for Jesper’s ears, “but I overheard ya talkin’ to yer momma. I know this holiday is important to ya, since it’s yer first with yer dad. Now ya listen to me, Jesper,” he says, and the Lead Nav looks straight in his eyes, “Things are gonna work out jus’ fine. Yer Dad loves ya, and he’s real proud a’ ya.”

They both glance at Kraglin, who’s been watching with obvious tenderness, but straightens up under their gaze. “Now I’m the first to admit that I ain’t great at the sentimental stuff, but I told ya before and I’ll tell ya again that I consider ya my grandson, and I’m here fer ya if ya need me. And I can say fer certain that goes fer everybody here,” he continues, waving a hand vaguely at the room. “Ya got a family that ain’t never gonna leave ya.”

Yondu begins to internally panic a little when Jesper’s eyes fill with tears, and his hands automatically fall into place on either side of the boy’s face. “Hush now, it’s all right, son.”

“Don’t feel like I’ve really had a family since momma passed,” he whispers. “I do, now.” He leans forward suddenly and hugs Yondu. The embrace lasts only a couple seconds, and when Jesper backs away, his face is deep blue. “Sorry.”

Yondu says nothing and hands Jesper a candy cane.

The Lead Nav laughs, surreptitiously wiping an eye. “Thanks.” He departs to stand next to Kraglin, who smiles down at him.

“Us next!”

Kraglin’s fond expression turns into one of dismay as Peter grabs his arm and pulls him over to Yondu. Peter sits on Yondu’s lap and tries to pull Kraglin down to do the same, but he slips away at the last second, very blue in the face, and darts back to Ryx.

“Git off, Quill,” Yondu growls. “Yer too heavy.”

Peter pouts. “Aren’t you going to ask me if I’ve been good?”

“No, I know the answer to that one.”

Peter frowns deeply. “What about what I want for Christmas?”

“Don’t matter what ya want. Yer gettin’ coal.”

_“Hey!”_


	4. Day 4: Bad Weather / Cuddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stranded in the Deep in a dead M-ship, Yondu has to figure out how to keep Kraglin and Peter warm.

The mission was going fine, until a Kree battle cruiser showed up. Yondu, in the _Warbird_ with Kraglin and Quill, got separated from the rest of _Eclector’s_ M-ships. Thankfully they were able to take down the Kree in pursuit, but their vessel was shot up in the process.

Now it lies dead in the Deep, with no way to call for help, and it’s getting cold.

Due to oxygen reserves, they’ll probably freeze to death before they run out of air, but Yondu can’t decide if that’s better or worse. His own body temperature runs naturally high due to the cooler climate of his home world so it’ll be some time before he succumbs to the cold, but the same can’t be said for Kraglin and Quill.

The 23-year-old First Mate has half of his body buried in the bowels of control console, and from time to time there are quiet buzzes or sparks from within, but nothing particularly promising.

15-year-old Quill sits sulking in the corner, arms wrapped around himself, headphones jammed on his head, eyes narrow and angry. He’d tried to assist Kraglin, but only succeeded in nearly electrocuting the Xandarian, at which point said Xandarian yelled at him to go bother someone else.

Yondu has been splitting his time between trying to get in touch with the other M-ships or the _Eclector_ and taking stock of supplies on board. Unfortunately, the survivalist mentality he has sported through the majority of his life causes him to forget about restocking gear onboard the _Warbird_. Though the items are always in steady supply, he’s always relied on his own survival tactics and learned to never count on anything or anyone else to save him. Even in his years under Stakar, it never grew to be second nature. It was always a weak point, and he’s always depended on Tullk, Horuz, or Kraglin to resupply his ship with the standard emergency medical equipment and foodstuffs. As a result, his inventory consists of two flares, one emergency food ration, four canteens of water, a ratty blanket, and one heat stick.

It isn’t long before Yondu notices Quills teeth chattering, and shortly after that, Kraglin emerges from the console, his fingers white and trembling with cold.

“Anything?” Yondu asks.

Kraglin shakes his head, folding his collar up and zipping his jumpsuit as high as it will go. “No, C-Cap.” He hunkers down in one of the _Warbird’s_ seats, drawing his long knees up to his chin and sticking his fingers into the remaining warmth of his armpits.

Yondu retrieves the blanket and tosses it to Quill, then snaps the heat stick, shaking it until it glows, and hands it to Kraglin. “Warm yer fingers. Once they’re movin’, give it to Quill.”

Kraglin nods.

Meanwhile, Yondu makes use of the self-contained emergency food ration pack, which – thank all the gods – just _happens_ to be soup. It’s not much, barely enough for a large sip apiece, but it’s got a day’s worth of protein and necessary vitamins in it, and it’ll help keep the two younger Ravagers warm.

“Yondu?” Quill asks, hugging the blanket closer.

“What is it, boy? Ya should be savin yer breath.”

“C-c-can your arrow fly in the void?”

Yondu looks at him sharply. “Yeah, it can.”

“Maybe you could find one of the other ships with it.”

Yondu shrugs, getting to his feet. “Worth a shot.”

As he makes his way to the airlock, he hears Kraglin say, “S’ a good idea, Pete. M’ sorry I yelled atcha earlier.”

“It’s okay. I was trying to show off.”

Yondu tosses the arrow into the airlock and closes the protective barrier before releasing the weapon into the Deep. He whistles, and it shoots away, in the direction of the where the battle had initially taken place before they’d been led away.

The Yaka Arrow goes quite a distance, but not far enough before Yondu feels his contact with the weapon begin to fade. He whistles it closer until the strength of the connection is not worrisome. Its signal pings off their own distant _Warbird_ and pieces of destroyed Kree ship, but he doesn’t sense any other M-ships in the immediate vicinity.

His lip curls. _Dammit, how did we get chased so far off course?_ He looks out through the view port on the wall beside him, and sees that frost is creeping across it. _Shit._ He stalks back to where Kraglin and Quill are; they both look up at his entrance, eyes hopeful.

“No luck yet, but I’m connected to it out there and I’ll send it out after any ships I see comin’.” He surveys the two of them, both trembling with cold, and bites back a deep sigh of resignation. He does _not_ hold back an eyeroll, however. “C’mon, you two. Follow me. _Now.”_ He adds when they don’t immediately rise.

He leads them to the cot reserved for the injured and sits himself in the middle of it. “Quill.” He points to the empty space on his left. “Sit.”

“W-w-what for?”

“Don’t pretend yer stupid, boy, ‘cuz y’ain’t.”

But Peter just stares back blankly.

“Fer flark’s sake. Yer freezin’, and I ain’t. Body heat. Got it?”

Quill nods and hurriedly squeezes himself into the small space.

Yondu glances up at Kraglin. “Well?”

Teeth chattering, Kraglin shimmies himself into the space on Yondu’s right side. “Th-thanks, s-s-sir.”

Yondu just grunts in reply, before lifting his arms to loop them around Peter and Kraglin’s shoulders, pulling them snugly against his sides.

“Are we c-cuddling?” Peter asks, his tone suggesting he can’t decide whether to be embarrassed or revolted.

 _“No,”_ Yondu snaps. “We ain’t cuddlin’. I’m keepin’ you two idjits alive is what I’m doin’. So shut up.”

An hour later finds them squeezed even closer together, both of the younger Ravagers’ arms around Yondu’s middle and the blanket stretched between the three of them. Both of the flares are dead on the floor amidst the ashes of trash and paper they used to make a small fire in an empty metal bin, which should have been filled with emergency rations.

Yondu has been whistling from time to time to keep the Yaka Arrow within range, and while he sees a flicker of movement out among the stars once in a while, it’s nothing more than a flicker.

“Are we g-gonna die Y-Yondu?” comes Quill’s whisper through chattered teeth some time later.

The question causes Yondu’s heart to beat uncomfortably, as if someone is squeezing a fist around it. “No, Quill,” he replies firmly, subconsciously drawing the boy closer under his arm. “We ain’t gonna die. Just stick close to me, and don’t close yer eyes, ya hear?” He turns his head towards Kraglin. “You either. Ya hear me?”

Kraglin doesn’t reply and it takes a rough shake from Yondu to get his attention. _“Kraglin!_ Shit, boy! Don’t close yer eyes!” He doesn’t like the bolt of panic that rose in him so suddenly. “If ya go to sleep,” he growls at them both, “Ya might not ever wake up again! So keep yer eyes open. Tha’s an order.”

More time passes, and Yondu begins to worry. Not for himself, he knows he’s got to die sooner or later. He’s already lived far longer than he probably should have, given his background after all; but Kraglin and Quill? They’re young. They haven’t even started living life yet. He wracks every corner of his brain, trying to figure out how to provide more warmth to them, but nothing comes to mind.

“I…I c-can’t keep m’ eyes op-p-pen, Yondu,” comes Quill’s soft, weary voice – just as something pings off the Arrow. Yondu whistles (he feels both Kraglin and Peter flinch against him at the noise) and guides the Yaka Arrow forward, towards the source. The image that comes back into Yondu’s implant shows the familiar shape of an M-ship. He whistles sharply, sending the arrow looping and spiraling, attracting the attention of the ship.

“Up and at ‘em, boys,” Yondu says with a smile, shaking them both. “We’re gettin’ outta here.”

* * *

Kraglin and Peter are treated for mild frostbite and the beginning stages of hypothermia. They are both kept in the Med Bay for two days, and Yondu, who was already treated for a little frostbite on his nose and the tips of his ears, visits.

“Hi Yondu,” Quill says him as he enters.

Kraglin respectfully salutes. “Hello Cap’n.”

“Boys,” he greets them with a nod of his head, “Driving each other crazy yet?”

“No,” says Peter.

“Yes,” says Kraglin at the same moment.

Yondu chuckles, then clears his throat. “Y’all did good out there. I know it was a rough night, but ya didn’t lose yer heads. Yer Ravagers through and through. Jus’ wanted to tell ya that.”

He turns again to leave the Med Bay, but Kraglin calls out, “Cap’n?”

“Yeah, Krags?”

“Uh. Thanks fer savin’ us, sir.”

“Yeah,” Quill says. “We would have died if you hadn’t thought of cuddling together.”

“It was _not_ cuddling!” Yondu hisses in a low voice, eyes darting about him. “Don’t you go spreadin’ that ‘round!”

Peter grins mischievously. “What’ll you give me to keep quiet?”

For a moment, Yondu is almost proud of him. The tiniest quirk of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth before he snarls, “I’ll give a swift kick in the ass, is what I’ll give ya, and you’ll be thankful fer it!”

Quill’s face falls and he shrinks down in his cot.

“Should’a left ya on that ship,” Yondu grumbles as he leaves the room.

“Geez,” Quill huffs after Yondu leaves. “I was just kidding. What a grump. Ow!” He rubs his head, which had just been smacked soundly by Kraglin’s pillow.

“That _grump_ saved yer flarkin’ life! Stupid kid.”

“I’m not stupid, _you’re_ stupid!”

Outside the Med Bay doors, Yondu just smiles, listening.


	5. Day 5: Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Groot has never seen snow; Yondu and the guys take him outside to play.

Groot has never seen snow.

Peter doesn’t know _why_ they haven’t gone to a planet with snow with little Groot, they just…haven’t. As soon as they touched down on Terra at [y/n]’s family cabin, the little Flora Colossus wanted to play, but they had to get settled in.

A few nights later, however, there’s a big snowfall and the next day, [y/n] bundles Groot in a little red scarf and sets him on Yondu’s shoulder, and the Ravager Captain takes him outside to play in the snow.

Peter, Kraglin, Jesper, Rocket, and Drax are already outside; Peter is teaching them how to build snowmen.

“I am Groot!” Groot cries, waving to Peter.

“Hi Groot! Want to make a snow angel?”

“I am Groot!”

“…I’ll take that as a yes?”

Peter finds a clean patch of snow and falls down on his back, sweeping his arms and legs back and forth.

“Careful now, Twig,” Yondu says, setting him down, “The snow’s deep.”

Groot giggles and flops on his back in a shallow drift, mimicking Peter’s movements. Peter gets up, then helps Groot out of the snow, and they survey their handiwork. “Nice one!”

“Hey Pete!”

Peter turns at Kraglin’s call and receives a large wet snowball straight to the face. He’s so surprised and the impact is so sudden that he falls back into the snow, ruining both the snow angels.

Drax’s laughs boom out across the frozen lake, intermingled with Rocket’s cackles.

“I am _Groot!”_ Groot yells, angrily stomping a tiny foot.

“Don’t worry, Twig. We’ll get him back fer that.” Scooping up a large mound of snow in his gloved hands, Yondu forms it into a ball.

Kraglin’s expression turns from one of mirth to one of fleeting panic as he dives behind a mound of snow to take cover, dragging Jesper with him. Despite his speed, Yondu’s snowball still catches him solidly in the shoulder, and there’s a distinct laugh from the First Mate.

Yondu grabs Quill by the collar and drags him behind a tree. “C’mon, Quill, yer on our team!”

“Okay!” Peter excitedly begins making an arsenal of snowballs, setting them by the tree trunk.

Yondu helps Groot lift one of them, steadying his little arms which he’s now extended into long vines. “Ready? Aim, fire!”

Groot rears his long viny arms back and the snowball flies away. The aim was a little off, however, and instead of hitting Kraglin or Jesper, hits Drax right in the chest.

The Destroyer’s laughter stops abruptly as he stares down at the crumbling snowball, then his face splits into a large grin, eyes sparkling. _“A CHALLENGE!_ Come, Rocket! Let us defeat them together!”

“Aw shit,” Yondu mutters.

Above in the cabin, you, Gamora, Mantis and Nebula watch what has to be the most brutal and at the same time funniest snowball fight you’ve ever seen. Jesper nails Drax in the face; Rocket hits Yondu in the shin; Groot gets revenge on Kraglin by lobbing a large one right on top of his head. The snowball fight then turns into a sort of brawl; they all charge one another and start wrestling in the snow.

Nebula rolls her eyes and Gamora snorts kindly, smiling. _“Boys.”_

“I am glad I am inside!” Mantis says, shrugging her shoulders to snuggle deeper into an oversized sweater. “It is too cold outside!”

You laugh and nod. “I’m with you.”

About thirty minutes later, all of them come trudging in; Groot is wrapped in Yondu’s neckerchief, shivering violently. Rocket is perched atop Yondu’s shoulder, rubbing his back.

“Everything okay?” you ask.

“We lost Groot in the snow for like twenty minutes,” Peter explains, panting. “Good thing he can grow his arms!”

“Oh no! Are you okay sweetie?” you ask, approaching. “Does he need medical attention?” you ask in a softer voice.

“I think he’ll be okay, Doc,” Rocket replies.

“I am G-G-Groot,” the little Flora Colossus replies.

Rocket chuckles softly. “He says he’s had enough snow for today.”

“Aww, I bet. Come here, little guy.” You take him from Yondu and Rocket and wrap him in a blanket that had been warming in a pile near the fireplace. Then you hand him to Gamora, who is sitting on the couch. “How about some hot chocolate and we’ll all watch a Christmas movie?”

“I am Groot,” He says with a happy, sleepy smile.

“Sounds good,” Rocket translates.

Soon, everybody is changed into warm, dry clothes, wrapped in blankets, and lounging on the couch.

Groot leaves Gamora, dragging his blanket with him, and crawls onto Yondu’s lap. The Captain smiles down at him, patting his head gently. Groot looks up at him and smiles.

“I am Groot?”

Yondu looks over at Rocket, raising an eyebrow.

“Can we go out in the snow again tomorrow?”


	6. Day 6: Holiday Cooking Gone Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter tries to teach the Ravagers how to make Christmas cookies. It...doesn't go like he planned.

11-year-old Quill tells Yondu that he wants to teach Erson the cook and some other Ravagers how to make and decorate Christmas cookies. “Sure,” he tells the kid, and thinks, _What could go wrong?_

You’d think he’d have learned by now.

Yondu is alerted to the first fire within a half hour. The second and third fire, within the next hour after that. So, he suggests cookies that don’t require the use of an oven.

Next thing he knows, small, rock-like objects are being flung around the mess and he has to whistle out the Yaka Arrow to restore order. Turns out, they’re no-bake cookies, which somehow turned hard as stone and as a result are completely inedible (not that some Ravagers didn’t try and now need new teeth from the medic). Yondu orders all the wannabe-treats to be tossed in the incinerator and tells Peter to stop with the cookies.

But, in true Peter Quill fashion, the boy finds a loophole in Yondu’s orders and tries _candy_ next.

This results in two Ravagers with severe burns in the med bay, and one with his foot stuck to a baking sheet. Yondu doesn’t know how that last incident happened and doesn’t _want_ to know.

They try twice more (once with some sugar concoction that one Ravager has an allergic reaction to in its raw form, and once where two Ravagers get into a fight over what color the candy should be, ending in a trip to the med bay) before Erson calls it quits and bans Quill from the kitchen for the next three years.

Once Yondu hears of all the trouble Quill caused, he goes marching towards the First Mate’s cabin which the boy shares. He’s fully intending to give the boy a piece of his mind (and a month full of chores) but stops short when he hears him talking to Kraglin in strained tones.

“…haven’t had any cookies or anything since Yondu picked me up. I thought it’d be simple, but I can’t remember how Mom made them. I can’t remember the color of her favorite nightgown, or the smell of the soap she used. I’m – I’m forgetting what she _looked_ like, Kraglin,” Quill gasps out, and Yondu senses the boy is on the brink of tears. “I mean – what she looked like before she got sick. I think I’m forgetting what she sounded like, too. I’m afraid I’m going to forget all about her.”

There’s the noise of movement within the room; the creak of a cot and a few footsteps, and Yondu surmises that Kraglin is probably kneeling in front of or sitting next to the boy now. “Yer not gonna forget yer momma, Peter,” Kraglin’s voice comes softly. “She meant too much to ya, and she’s too much a part of who ya are. But if yer really afraid ‘bout it, then tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me ‘bout her.”

“Geez…like…like what? Where do I start?”

“I dunno. How ‘bout ya start with the Christmas cookies? What’d they taste like? What’d they look like? What did she talk to ya ‘bout while she was makin’ em?”

“She sang while we listened to the radio. And I remember she always had this jar of green sugar sprinkles, it was in the same place in the cupboard forever…”

Yondu creeps away after listening a while, all thoughts of disciplining Quill gone out of his mind.

When Peter wakes up on Christmas Day a couple day-cycles later, he finds a covered platter on the table between his and Kraglin’s cots. On it lies a note. Peter manages to make out, from the badly written and misspelled words: _To Quill, Merry Krissmuss or whatever. Don’t get sick on these. – Yondu._

He pulls the covering off the platter, and his eyebrows shoot up. “Christmas cookies?” he murmurs to himself in disbelief. Apart from being cut into weird shapes, they look just like the sugar cookies his Mom used to make. There are ones with little candy balls, some with icing, and others with green sugar sprinkles. He takes one and takes a tentative bite, prepared for an awful taste, but gasps. “Kraglin! Kraglin, wake up! It’s Christmas cookies! Just like my Mom used to make!”


	7. Day 7: Grandparents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back on Terra, Peter travels to Missouri to reunite with his grandparents for the first time in over twenty years. Kraglin, Gamora, and Yondu tag along for emotional support. Takes place between the lines of Chapters 34 and 35 of Vital: Part Two.

“Quill looks like he’s gonna be sick,” Kraglin murmurs to Yondu from the _Milano’s_ pilot seat.

Yondu looks back at his adopted Terran son and true enough, Peter’s face looks a little green. His leg begins to bounce, and keeps jiggling until Gamora, next to him, places a hand gently on his knee to still it. He glances up at her and gives her a fleeting, shaky smile before seizing her hand in his and holding it tight.

“Ya alright, boy?” Yondu asks quietly.

Peter’s eyes flick up to his and he nods quickly, not saying anything.

Yondu nods doubtfully in return and settles back in his seat. They’re on Terra for Christmas, vacationing at [y/n]’s family cabin, and Peter wants to see if his grandfather and grandmother will join them. He doesn’t blame Quill for being nervous about seeing his grandparents again. He felt just nervous when he reunited with his Ravager family after twenty-six years of exile; it’s been that long since Quill has seen his own family too, or even set foot on Terra.

“Comin’ up on St. Charles, Missouri,” Kraglin announces a short time later. “Can ya guide me where to go from here, Pete?” he adds softly.

Peter clears his throat and nods, still holding on to Gamora’s hand. He studies the overhead view on the holoscreen in front of him. He’s silent for several moments, then, “Slow down. There’s the high school, and the elementary school, and…” his voice drops, very low. “…and there’s the pond where those bullies smooshed that little frog.” Yondu glances back at him. His eyes have gone distant and afraid.

“Quill?” he prompts.

Peter flinches, eyes darting back up to the holoscreen. “There should be a small lake, then a field, and you’ll see a house with a big red barn behind it. That’s Pop’s and Meemaw’s.”

“Don’t see no field…bunch a’ houses…but there’s a house and a red buildin’ behind. That it?” Kraglin asks. There’s silence from the back. “Pete?”

“Y-yeah. That’s it.”

“Ok. Gonna take us down behind that barn then.”

They land, and Yondu and Kraglin give Peter some space as Gamora speaks with him in hushed, soothing tones. She leads him to the tractor beam, squeezes his hand, and gives him a swift kiss on the cheek. “It will be fine, Peter. I’ll be close by if you need me.”

They all disembark; the _Milano_ remains cloaked behind the barn. Yondu, Kraglin, and Gamora hide behind an old rusty tractor off the side of the house, and Peter prepares to make his way around to the front.

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” he says, faltering.

“Quill,” Yondu says, placing his hands on either side of the boy’s face. “If ya don’t’ face ‘em now, you’ll regret it later, believe me. I know. Yer gonna be fine.” He gives his cheek a pat. “Go on, now.”

Peter swallows, and nods. Clearing his throat, he heads towards the front door. “Pops?” he calls loudly. “Meemaw?”

Yondu detects some faint movement inside the house, and a moment later, the front door cracks open. He nearly whistles on the spot when the muzzle of some sort of long-barreled gun slides through the opening.

“Get off my property!” yells a crackly voice.

“Whoa, whoa!” Quill shouts, raising his hands and taking a step backwards. “Don’t shoot! Please, I’m not here to cause any trouble.”

“Y’ain’t, huh? Then who are you? What do you want?”

“Pops, it’s – it’s _me_. It’s Peter.”

The gun slides out further and there’s a menacing _click_ from inside. “You punks just don’t know when to stop, do you? Think it’s funny, eh? _Well, it ain’t!”_

“No! No, Pops, it’s _really_ me! Peter Jason Quill!”

“I’m givin’ you to the count of five! _One!”_

Peter points wildly at the right side windows of the house. “When I was six, Meemaw told me not to jump on the couch in the parlor, but I did it anyway! I bounced off and split my chin open on the coffee table. You rushed me to the hospital, and I had to get seven stitches. I still have the scar!” Peter runs a finger along the underside of his chin.

There’s silence from inside the house, and the gun lowers slightly.

“In the fall, when it wasn’t too cold yet, you used to set up a tent in the backyard, and me and Mom would lie on a blanket out under the stars and listen to the radio until three in the morning, even though she had to go to work at the diner at six! And you used to take me fishing down at Betty’s Lake every summer. I wasn't any good, but you still told me I was!"

The door creaks open, and from this angle, Yondu can just make the shadowy face of an elderly man within. 

"And - " Peter's voice breaks, and he runs a hand through his hair before placing his hands at his hips. "And when Mom was - was dying in the hospital…when she reached for my hand, I didn't take it. I wouldn’t do it because I was…” He lets out a long breath. “I was _scared_. I thought…I thought that if I took her hand, she was going to be gone for sure, but then she _was_ , and I couldn't..." Quill’s posture breaks, folds, and he doubles over, placing his face in his hands. "I ran, Pops. _I just ran_. Straight out of the hospital. And I know this is gonna sound crazy, but I-"

"Got picked up by a flying saucer.”

Peter’s head snaps up.

An old man stands on the porch, the shotgun in his hand now pointed at the ground.

“How did you know that?” Peter asks, his voice hushed.

“Because I saw you get drawn up into that thing. I tried to flag it down, stop whoever was taking you, but I wasn’t quick enough.” Pops places the shotgun on the porch swing and comes towards Peter. “I never stopped believing you were alive, and hoping you’d make it home someday.” Tears course down his cheeks as he peers up into Peter’s face. “Pete?”

“Yeah, Pops,” Peter says, and he’s suddenly crying.

Still hidden behind the tractor, Yondu’s heart twists at the sight. He feels Kraglin’s hand on his shoulder and looks back at his First Mate to see the man’s face is full of remorse.

“I didn’t want to take him away from his family,” Yondu says quietly, turning his gaze back on Peter and his grandfather, and he feels Gamora’s eyes on him. “But if I didn’t, his father would’a found him. Would’a killed him.”

“You did the correct thing, Yondu,” Gamora says firmly. “Perhaps you should not have hidden the truth about Ego from him all those years, but you did the right thing and kept him safe.”

Peter and Pops converse in the yard for several minutes, and at one point, his face goes very white and he covers his face again, shoulders shaking.

“I can’t jus’ stand here,” Kraglin mutters, and steps out from behind the tractor. “Peter?”

Quill raises his head, and Yondu can see his face is streaked with tears.

“Pete,” Kraglin says softly. “What…?”

“Meemaw’s dead,” he says brokenly. “She died four years ago.”

“Oh gods. M’ sorry.” Kraglin moves several paces towards them, and Peter goes to meet him, accepting the older man’s embrace. “M’ so sorry, Peter.”

“If I hadn’t been scared to come back, if I wasn’t such a –”

 _“Hey._ Yer here now, that’s what counts. And yer Pops looks really freaked out now, sorry.”

Peter looks back over his shoulder at his grandfather, who is watching Kraglin with wide, confused eyes. He wipes the remaining tears from his face. He can understand everything Kraglin says due to his translator chip, but to Pops, Kraglin is speaking _Xandarian_ , not English, and it must sound pretty unnatural.

“You have a chip injector?” he asks the First Mate, who nods. He takes it and turns back to his grandfather. “Pops, uh. This is Kraglin Obfonteri. He helped take care of me, he’s like my brother. I’m gonna put this chip in, so you can understand him.”

The insertion of the chip and Kraglin’s introduction seems to go well, so after several more minutes, Peter beckons to Yondu and Gamora. “C’mon out, guys.”

 _“Holy cats,”_ Pops gasps out as Yondu and Gamora approach.

“It’s okay Pops. Uh. Do you want to sit down?”

“I’m - I’m alright, Pete. W-would you like to introduce me?”

Peter smiles, and Yondu is relieved to see it’s genuine. “This is Gamora. She’s my…” he glances at her.

“I am his girlfriend,” Gamora says, prompting a big smile of adoration from Peter. “It is nice to meet you, Mr. Quill.”

Pops extends a hand to her, and after a whispered direction from Peter, she shakes it. “Likewise,” Pops says with a slightly-shaky smile. His eyes dart to Yondu. “And…?”

“This is Yondu Udonta. My dad.”

Pop’s eyes go very big. “Ya mean…Meredith was telling the truth? She…she never said anything about him being blue.” Then his brows draw down angrily, and he points an accusing finger at Yondu. “Why didn’t you come back? Why the hell would you leave her, with a baby boy to raise all on her own? And ya better have a damn good reason fer takin’ my grandson away from us without so much as a-”

“Whoa, whoa! Pops, calm down,” Quill interjects, stepping between him and Yondu before the Ravager Captain can respond. “Yondu isn’t my father. I mean, not my _biological_ father. But he raised me, best he knew how.”

“And kept him safe from his real father,” Kraglin says.

“Kept him safe…? What are you talking about?”

Quill lets out a long, shaky breath. “It’s a long story. I think we should take this inside.”

Yondu stays silent for the most part once inside the house, letting Peter lead the conversation and supplying information only when prompted. He keeps his eyes on his adopted Terran son throughout the time there, watching as the nostalgia and memories of his childhood wash over him.

“Do you mind if I look around a bit?” Peter asks hours later, after all of Pop’s questions have been asked and answered.

“Sure, sure. Go ahead. I got a lot of processing to do here.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

Pops waves a hand in dismissal of the apology. “Go on, Pete.”

“Gamora, Krags, look.” He leads the two away, leaving Yondu alone at the small kitchen table with Pops.

“I guess I should say thanks, for keeping him safe out there all those years,” Pops says at last, after awkwardly clearing his throat.

Yondu presses his lips together, tapping a rough finger on the tabletop. “I weren’t never planning on pickin’ up or raisin’ a child,” he says at last. “I didn’t know what the hell I was doin’, I didn’t do nothin’ right. I should’a done better by him. I reckon he only turned out as good as he did because of his Momma.”

Pops nods. “She did a fine job, and that’s the truth. But Meredith only had him for eight years, you had him for the other twenty-something. I reckon you must have done _something_ right in that time.”

“He never took my Walkman away. Ever.”

Pops and Yondu look up to see Peter, watching them from where he’s half-hidden behind the doorframe.

“He punished whoever tried to,” he continues. “And he must have fixed it a hundred times, because I took it _everywhere._ I still had it in working condition too, up until Ego destroyed it last year.” A mixed look of anger and regret flashes across his face. “You could have, you know,” he says, addressing Yondu. “You could have taken it away to teach me a lesson, but you never did.”

It’s some time before Yondu can find the words to respond, but he finally shakes his head. “It would’a broke you, boy, if I took that away. I might have been hard on ya, too hard sometimes, but I never wanted to break ya the way I was broke.”

“I know. I mean, I know _now._ ” He drops his eyes to the floor.

“I remember the birthday when Mer gave that Walkman to you,” Pops says with a smile. “Would’a thought she bought you a live dinosaur, or the whole of Disney World, the way you acted.”

Peter lifts his gaze again, grinning. “It was the best birthday present I ever got. The _Milano_ was the second runner up, though,” he says with a glance at Yondu, who snorts.

“Milano?” Pops asks, raising an eyebrow.

“My ship. It’s parked out behind the barn. Speaking of which.” He clears his throat loudly. “Pops, I was wondering if you wanted to join us for Christmas. Yondu has a girlfriend, she has a big cabin, and the rest of my team is there. I’d hate for you to be alone on Christmas.”

“Oh, Pete. I don’t want to intrude.”

“Y’ain’t,” Yondu interjects with a shrug. “We got plenty a’ room.”

“Please, Pops? I’d love for you to meet them, and them to meet you. You can tell them stories about when I was a kid. Maybe we can take a box of those ornaments we always used, to decorate the tree. Do you still have them?”

“Of course I do,” Pops says with a nod. He looks around the kitchen. “I bet I could find your Mom’s sugar cookie recipe around here, too, to take with us.”

“You mean you’re coming?”

Pops gets up and walking over to Peter, pulls his grandson into a hug. “I’d love to, Pete.”

“Thanks, Pops. That means a lot. I-”

Peter is cut off by Kraglin’s loud laugh from the other room, accompanied by stifled giggles from Gamora. Peter whirls. “What’s so funny?”

Kraglin comes into view, holding a book that looks like it’s filled with pictures. “Ya didn’t tell me ya were so cute, Pete,” he snickers. He holds up the album, showing a photograph of Peter in a white frilly outfit.

Peter yanks the book out of Kraglin’s hands, flushing dark. _“Gimme that!”_

Pops in turn takes it from Peter, and holds it open to show Yondu. “That was his baptism. And here he is, six months old.”

 _“Pops,_ no!”

 _“Damn_ , Quill. You was _fat._ ”

Peter turns even redder. “It’s – that’s not – _all_ babies are chubby!”

“If ya say so.” Yondu closes the book and pats its cover. “Pack that with yer stuff,” he murmurs to Pops, who chuckles.


End file.
